


Almost a Love Story

by Sophia_Bee



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Angst, Epic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 11:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2386532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, Keith’s death sends Veronica and Logan lives into a downward spiral</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He asked her on the day of college graduation, one knee planted firmly in the perfectly shorn grass of the football field and Veronica knew there would be green-brown stains on his tan trousers when he stood up. For anyone else grass stains would be a big deal, a sure sign of devotion. After all, grass stains were hard to get out. They required some scrubbing, some intentional thought about what stain remover to use. To sink down into the wet, soppy grass of the football field fully knowing the end result showed some dedication. But it was simple for him. All Duncan Kane needed to do was send them to the cleaner.

His hand felt sweaty as he grasped hers, and all she could think about was how the sun felt hot on her head and she wondered if her scalp would be burned when she returned to the hotel for the graduation party Alicia had planned. It would be complete with cake and cane-sugar sweetened soda chilling in a bed of ice. There would be Coronas with lime and Mexican food, and Veronica and Wallace would nick a couple then slip outside by the pool and chug them down, and it would be the first genuine smile she’d had all day. It would almost be perfect, except for one thing missing. One person.

_I miss you daddy._

He should be here. He should see her on her graduation day, and her wedding day and the day she first holds her baby in her arms and gently tries to calm its cries, and every important day after that. He should be here to tell her what to do when a boy is on one knee with your hand in his asking you to be his companion, to share his life for an eternity. Veronica should be able to cry on his shoulder because she doesn’t know how to say ‘no’ to someone she loved so much so long ago but she’s not sure if she loves him anymore.

All Veronica has left are the dreams. Even years later they always start the same, with the smell of gasoline mixed with burning wood. Then she sees him lying on the ground and it’s like it’s happening all over again. She runs to his side, shakes him, says his name over and over, but he never responds. It’s different than that night. There are no paramedics. No crazy Aaron Echolls screaming as he’s being handcuffed. No Jake Kane being held back by the police. Just her and Keith, and he’s dying. She can’t stop it in her dream and she can’t stop the dreams from coming almost every night.

Duncan ends up being the only one she has left in the fallout of Lilly Kane’s murder. Keith is dead, lying in the casket with a strange, grotesque smile that Veronica had never seen on his face when he was alive. Lilly goes without saying, not even a ghost egging her on to find the truth. There’s only emptiness. Logan is gone, disappearing in the manner only people with large bank accounts and updated passports can manage.

Sometimes she wonders how different things might have been if he’d found a way to stay.

Maybe they would have all found a way back to each other, a return to a semblance of the easy camaraderie that she used to take for granted, some type of new friendship that ignored everything that had happened. Instead she’s left with a note hastily scrawled on wide ruled loose-leaf paper and slipped under her door in the middle of the night. Years later she still keeps it in her pocket, the writing worn away, the creases tearing from folding and unfolding it hundreds of times. It’s like a bad movie that always ends the same. The last line his her favorite scene and she always tears up when she reads it, tracing across the fading ink with her fingers as if she could reach out and touch him through his words.

_I loved you._

She wants to write her own ending, an epilogue that asks him to explain why loving someone means you leave them.

Somehow she makes it through high school but it takes everything out of her, every last ounce of willpower she possesses to get up every morning, to do her homework, to wear a smile so she won’t be called into the counselor’s office one more time. Everyone’s concerned. She sees it in their sideways glances; in the way they ask if she’s okay. She knows they’re well meaning but their concern is suffocating.

Right after they stopped the ventilator and gave him a ton of morphine and Veronica held his hand as he slipped away from her she started taking drives. She would go past places she and her dad used to go together, the beach or the Tasty Freeze, and she’d startle, thinking she sees him out of the corner of her eye. The first time she slammed the brakes of her car, leaving skid marks on the hot asphalt. Her fingers shook as she fumbled with the door handle until it finally gave way and she stumbled into the dusty hot summer day, not caring that she’d stopped traffic.

“Daddy!” Veronica screamed, tears streaming down her face as she frantically searched for his familiar profile. Finally some strong arms came around her and she buried her face in the stiff brown fabric of the uniform of a faceless deputy. Someone had called about the crazy girl running around the street, screaming and Lamb had taken pity on a grief-stricken Veronica Mars.

She’d learned not to run after her ghosts after that. She’d just try not to see him lurking in the corners of her mind, and when she wanted to run after him, to ask him why he’d died, practically making her an orphan, she just pushed the gas pedal down and drove away from her daddy.

She goes to USC and majors in photography and slowly the edges become less sharp, still painful but not the kind of pain that leaves her sobbing in the middle of the night. Her memories start to get fuzzy, hard to grasp and Veronica starts to build a life out of the pieces of the aftermath.

Duncan is there too, a star pupil in their business school, perfectly priming himself as heir apparent to the Kane Empire. They start to spend more time together. He’s sweet and attentive, bringing her pizza for long-night study sessions, helping her memorize facts about art history that she knows he doesn’t care about.

Finally graduation arrives and it’s the last gateway into adulthood. Its pomp and circumstance, ceremony and tradition. Duncan is chosen as class speaker and gives a speech worthy of a senate candidate. As she looked at him behind the podium, polished and composed, Veronica saw a glimpse of his future: senator, maybe even president someday. With the power of the Kane Empire behind him, the possibilities were endless. What she didn’t know was that Duncan saw the same type of future except with one difference. She was by his side. Which was why Veronica blinked in surprise when Duncan fell to one knee and took her hand in his and professed his undying love.

She didn’t know what to say. She just stared down at him, her mouth gaping, trying to find words where there were none. She wanted desperately to find that piece of paper, years later it’s soft as a tissue and still always in her pocket. Except today. She wants to feel it in her fingers. Because it’s her only connection to Logan and if she feels it, it might give her the strength to tell Duncan the truth.

She doesn’t know where Logan is. Five long years without a phone call or a post card. It hasn’t stopped her from aching for him every day. In a way she’s grateful that her dad died because it made Logan’s absence seem somewhat insignificant for a little while. What Veronica doesn’t admit to herself is that Keith being dead doesn’t make losing Logan any less painful. It compounds everything. And it’s the worst kind of pain because at least with her dad she can talk about it. There’s no one she can talk to about how much she misses Logan.

Veronica tells herself that she stopped looking for him years ago, finally came to some acceptance that she wasn’t going to walk around a corner and find him standing there, smirking, ready with a quick comment. She told herself that happily ever after wasn’t something she would ever have with Logan Echolls. The reality is that she’s never stopped looking for him and glancing around for Logan has become second nature, just short of breathing. Even now as Duncan kneels in front of her she finds herself wondering if he’s somewhere in the crowd watching her. She imagines that he might walk up at this very moment and she can almost hear his voice.

_D.K., what do you think you’re doing with my woman?_

The voices of her classmates, friends and their families buzz in the distance and Veronica feels a bead of sweat drip from her hairline and down the side of her face. She feels Duncan squeeze her hand and it brings her back to the present and the significance of what is happening.

“Marry me, Veronica.” Duncan says again.

Life with Duncan wouldn’t be so bad, Veronica thinks. He’s a good guy and she does love him even if she’s not in love with him. There are good marriages built on a lot less.

Veronica takes a deep breath.

“Yes.” She whispers.


	2. Chapter 2

Logan is drinking his morning coffee when he sees her face. It’s actually just one of her eyes staring out from the crumpled ball of newspaper he’d pulled out of Trina’s latest care package from the states. He’d opened it a couple days ago and pulled out a few trinkets, then left the box next to the small round table on the balcony that overlooks the brilliant blue of the ocean.

He hasn’t seen her for years. That’s what happens when you leave everything behind. No one emails you, updates you, sends you pictures, writes Christmas letter full of obnoxious bragging tidbits. You cease to exist as they move ion with their lives and yours remains frozen in time. He stares at the crumpled paper and wonders if she’s different. Will she still have that same haunted look in her eyes? Does she still look at the world with a suspicious stare? Does she still cry at night? His hand shakes a little and Logan debates whether he wants to make the effort to get up and find out why Veronica is in the Neptune paper or if he wants to just let it sit there until the housekeeper comes the next day and takes the box and her face away and he can get back to trying to forget her, like he’s been doing for years now.

Sometimes he thinks he’s almost forgotten her. He’ll be sitting in a local café sipping a cappuccino and something will remind him of her: a drift of laughter from someone walking by, or the click of a tourist’s camera. Then it all comes crashing back and suddenly he can feel her again, the way she would press against him, or the way she would tilt her head and smile. His hand shakes as he finishes his cappuccino, fine tremors from too much booze and too many memories, and Logan wonders why he continues to lie to himself. He’ll never forget her. He goes home and drinks more and tries to forget her all over again.

In the end his desire to see her just once again wins and Logan slowly gets up and picks up the wadded ball of newspaper. It’s probably another five year anniversary article about the poor high school girl who lost both her best friend and her dad at the hands of one man. It’s probably another tragic expose that will send him into a spiral of guilt he’ll have to numb with scotch until he wakes up with his face stuck to the expensive leather couch in his living room and realizes he’s lost another several days on yet another binge.

He’d left after the trial. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. There was one person left he cared about and he wasn’t sure how he could look her in the eye when his dad had beaten her dad to a pulp, leaving him in a coma for two weeks until Veronica finally had to make the decision to remove him from life support. Logan had called up his dad’s accountant the day Keith Mars died and told him to pay for every cent of the hospital bill. He thought that might make him feel better. It didn’t. Nothing ever did.

He knew she wasn’t doing well. There was the day she’d stopped traffic in downtown Neptune and screaming on the street, and the sheriff was called to take her away. It was all over the news that night, her mascara streaked face caught on the camera of some passerby who had no qualm about donating his amateur movie footage to the local stations.

Logan found the asshole and bought the footage from him for a handsome price. Then he pulled the tape out of the plastic cassette and tossed it into the fireplace, wrinkling his nose at the acid smell of the smoke.

After that he started a new nightly ritual. When the sun slipped behind the hills he’d get in one of his dad’s BMWs and drive across town to the seedier side of Neptune. He’d park a few blocks away from the well cared for Cape Cod owned by Alicia Fennel, get out and slowly walk toward the house. He’d stop in front of it, stand across the street and watch. Usually for five minutes, never more than fifteen. Sometimes the house would be dark except for the flicker of the television in the front room. Sometimes he’d see Alicia in the kitchen and he wondered if the smell of garlic and oregano drifting through the air was a late night dinner. Sometimes he’d see her. She step quietly out the front door and he’d pull deeper into the shadows of the tree that obscured him from her view. She’d sit down on the porch swing, wrap her jacket tighter around her shoulders and stare into the distance.

Those were the nights Logan would go home and open another of his dad’s expensive bottles of booze and drink until everything felt numb.

The chill of fall was in the air when it all became clear for Logan. School would start in a couple weeks and he still wasn’t sure if he wanted to go back. What was there to go back to? He didn’t care that he’d lost his status, that Dick and Beaver ignored him when they ran into him around town. He didn’t care that there would be whispers and stares. He knew that Duncan would still be his friend, and maybe that would have been enough. Expect he knew he’d see Veronica every day, and each time he would be reminded of what his father had taken from her.

It was one thing for Logan to lose his girlfriend, or for Veronica to lose her best friend. It was something entirely different to live with the knowledge that Aaron had stolen her father from her.

He was standing in the shadows, watching, like he did almost every night, when he realized it was time for him to leave. Logan shoved his hands in his pockets and hurried back to the car. He rummaged around until he found an old sheet of notebook paper and a worn pencil. Then he wrote.

He wrote everything. How their couple weeks had been some of the best days he’d ever had. How he was sorry about her dad. How this was better for both of them. How he could never forgive himself for not seeing that it had been Aaron all along, and maybe if he’d seen it Keith would be alive today. How he’d never forget her as long as he lived. He started to sign it when he decided to add one final thought.

_I loved you._

Logan packed just one suitcase. Then he was gone. He told himself it was best this way as he relaxed against the leather of the first class seat and fingered the tiny bottle of scotch the flight attendant had given him without question. It was his final gift to Veronica. He took away the last thing that could remind her of Keith and how he died. Maybe this way she could finally find a way to heal.

Daddy’s trust fund treated him well and Logan moved from town to town, renting a house, staying for a couple months, and then moving on. He started in Spain, then France and finally Italy and the Rivera, as far away from Veronica and Neptune as he could get.

Now he was staring at her face over five years later. She was smiling out at him; her head tilted in such a ‘Veronica’ way that Logan felt his heart ache. She looked happy and Logan knew that he’d done the right thing by leaving. Then he read the caption.

_Kane-Mars Merger – Veronica Mars is all smiles at a private soirée Friday night where Jake Kane announced she and his son, Duncan Kane, will be tying the knot this summer._

“No.” Logan whispers into the empty morning air. Tears sting at the edges of his eyes as he crumples the paper back into a ball and throws it across the patio and he’s momentarily angry with himself.

Wasn’t this what he wanted? Wasn’t this why he left?

*****

Veronica will never be quite sure how she made it through her wedding day. She’ll look at the photos and see herself smiling and she thinks she looks genuinely happy but she’ll never remember feeling that way.

Veronica wonders when she became such a good actress as Duncan gently offers her the first bite of their wedding cake and the crowded room applauds. She knows the answer. It happened sometime between watching her father’s heart beat slow down until it was just a straight green line across the monitor and reading the hastily scrawled letter where Logan all but abandoned her.

Duncan is happy. Every time she glances at him, he smiles. It’s a smile that exudes warmth and love, and Veronica wonders why she can’t just relax and bask in his attention. Shouldn’t his happiness be enough for her? But she still glances around the room, wishing for those ghost glimpses of her father she had just after he died, and trying to see if maybe, just maybe, that other face is in the crowd. At least with Logan she’s searching for someone who really could be there.

Maybe he’s outside, disguised in the shadows of one of the huge oak trees lining the driveway to the country club. Just like when he used to stand outside Alicia’s house, watching, night after night, until that night the note appeared and Logan disappeared.

Duncan understands when Veronica says she needs some air. He smiles and tells her that he’s overwhelmed by this fabulous night too. He kisses her gently on the cheek and tells her to hurry back to him. Then she’s free and she somehow slips past all the guests and into the warm Neptune night. Veronica scans the darkness, watching for any hint of movement, any glint of moonlight off dark blond hair. She squints and tries to make him out in the shadows.

She sees nothing.

No one is around to hear the deep, sad sigh that escapes Veronica’s lips. She stares a moment longer, then turns around, thinking that she’s never felt so lost.

*****

The day Veronica marries Duncan Logan picks up a girl in a local cantina takes her home and fucks her. She has a toothy grin, an obnoxious giggle that gets worse with each drink she downs, and dirty blonde hair. She claws at his back, moaning in his ear like the women in the cheap porn that he and Lilly used to laugh at before they got too hot and bothered to laugh any more.

The girl is young, black kohl eyeliner around her eyes in the latest regurgitation of seventies fashion but there’s something about her that reminds him of Veronica. Something in the way she glances his way as he sits drinking the bitter local beer until he feels numb and fuzzy. Something in the way her hips swing as she walks toward him, one hand on her hip, the other pushing back her hair. It’s that something that makes him take her home because he normally drinks and leaves, stumbling up the hill and back to the rented apartment he’s called home for almost two years now.

She smells different as he buries his face in her neck and comes with a deep grunt; kind of salty and sour. For a moment he’s not there. He’s not anywhere. He’s just floating in space, his body drawn and taut. Then he’s back and she’s kissing his face, his neck, and Logan feels like he wants to throw up. Maybe it’s the beer. Maybe it’s that she’s not _her_. He rolls off the girl from the bar, leaving her panting on the overstuffed couch, her chest heaving. He pads across the room, not bothering to even pull his jeans back on in a false show of modesty and grabs her clothes in one hand. Logan turns back to her and watches disappointment wash over her face as he extends his hand and drops her clothes on the couch next to her. Then he sees understanding replace the disappointment.

It was just a fuck. Nothing more. Nothing less.

The girl pulls her clothes on and spits something at him in Italian. Logan doesn’t say anything back, just watches her. He knows enough of the language to recognize a few choice profanities and that’s about it. When she’s buttoned up her dress she storms out the front door, slamming it behind her and leaving him standing naked in the middle of the room.

Suddenly Logan feels an overwhelming sense of emptiness and he starts to shake.

_Veronica_

He should have gone back the moment he read the article. He should have bought a plane ticket and shown up on her doorstep, begging her not to become Mrs. Duncan Kane. But there was too much distance between them, too much hurt, and too many years of silence. How many times before should he have gone back but he didn’t? He just drank more and pretended he was doing the right thing. What right would he have now?

Grabbing a blanket from one of the armchairs, he wraps it around his bare shoulders and stumbles toward the kitchen. Opening one of the cupboards, Logan rummages around until his hand closes around cold glass and he pulls out a bottle of scotch. His hands still shaking, he fumbles with the cap, finally managing to unscrew it. The liquor burns down his throat as he tips the bottle back, but he doesn’t care. He wants the pain. Anything to keep him from thinking about…her…Duncan….

_Get the fuck out of my head._

Logan wakes up with his face sticking to expensive cream-colored Italian leather, the blanket around his hips, his mouth dry and sour. He groans and squints in the morning light. On the floor next to the couch is the bottle of scotch, lying empty on its side, half its contents spilling across the floor. Logan rolls off the couch and gingerly stands up, waiting for the room to stop spinning. When it does, he walks back toward the kitchen, opens the same cupboard and fishes around until he finds a second bottle.

*****

Veronica tries not the cry on her honeymoon night.

Duncan is sweet and gentle, considerate in every way. He strokes her skin with his fingertips and covers every inch of her body with kisses. He parts her thighs carefully with his hand and settles between them. Then he’s inside her and his jaw is slack, and he moves a little, tentatively, careful, like he’s afraid she might break. Or disappear. Veronica watches him with vague, detached curiosity, and his hands slip between them and touch her until she has no choice but to give up to the sensations that are building in her groin. Her hands go around his back and pull him against her as she writhes against him. Then Duncan is shuddering and he lets out a low groan as he collapses against her, burying his face in her neck, her name a whisper on his lips, his fingers tangling in her hair.

Veronica tries to not wish he were someone else. She tries to not remember how Logan’s lips had burned on hers, how he’d laughed into her mouth then devoured her alive, hot tongue and teeth, hands slipping under her shirt to stroke her skin. She tried to forget all that because it was impossible.

She’d made sure of that the moment she said yes to Duncan.

“I love you.” Duncan says, staring into her eyes just before he rolls off her.

“I love you too.” Veronica says back, knowing there’s truth in her words.

He pulls her against his chest and his hands stroke her hair and after a long time Veronica hears his breathing change, becoming deeper and slower. She lays there, her head tucked into his chest, his hand resting on her shoulder. She listens to his breathing, feels his heart beating under her fingertips.

_This is the rest of my life._

The next day Duncan brings her breakfast. He sits at the edge of the bed and looks at her, searching her face. Veronica stares back at him, her eyes never leaving his.

“I know I’m not him…” Duncan says in a rare acknowledgement of what has hung between them for years. Ever since the day she showed up at his house with tear stained cheeks, asking if he knew where Logan had gone. Veronica feels her heart start breaking as she searches his face. Duncan hadn’t had an answer for her that day, but he’d taken her into her arms and rocked her until her sobs subsided and her breathing slowed. That was the last time they talked about him until now.

“Don’t…” she starts. She can’t handle this conversation.

“I’m not stupid, Veronica,” he says quietly. “I knew when I asked you to marry me…I knew….”

She lifts her hand and places two fingers on his lips.

“Shhhhhhh,” she says quietly. “He left. He never came back. Not even a letter or post card. You didn’t. You stayed. That counts for everything.”

Duncan nods, not saying anything.

“You can grow to love me, Veronica. I know you can.”

“I do love you, Duncan,” Veronica whispers, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his, closing her eyes. “Never doubt that.”

Her hand slips around his neck and she feels him start to relax. They stay like that for a long time, forehead against forehead, eyes closed, breathing in time with each other.

_I love you. I’m in love with him._

She prays Duncan never starts to understand the difference.


	3. Chapter 3

The yacht has every conceivable luxury. Sometimes Veronica is amazed they are even at sea. She spends her days sunning herself on the deck, a book with dog-eared pages lying on the ground next to the chaise lounge. Duncan spreads sun block on her back every four hours, diligent about preventing skin cancer. It’s his job to take care of her now; he smiles as she tells him he’s too good to her.

It makes her think about her dad. He’d be happy she was being taken care of. For the first time since the wedding she feels this is somehow right.

Dinners are barbeque on the aft or whatever the chef prepares. They eat in silence, Duncan watching her as she devours her meals, licking her fingers in an act defying decorum. He makes the remark that he’s always liked that she was willing to eat like a pig in front of him. Veronica smiles her first genuine smile in what feels like months.

At night they fuck each other in the giant stateroom bed, and Duncan is always considerate and gentle, and it’s nice.

_Nice._

Slowly Veronica starts to let go of the melancholy that’s been lurking on the edge of her psyche and she starts to enjoy herself, laughing as Duncan makes a fool of himself one night, imitating a monkey, jumping around on deck and making funny noises. He tells her he likes to hear her laugh. She realizes that she likes to hear herself laugh as well.

Right when Veronica starts to feel stir crazy from being trapped on a boat, even a gigantic over one hundred-foot luxury yacht, they finally arrive in Riomaggiore. Duncan laughs at her when she shows up on deck armed with her new camera, a wedding gift from him, and a Rick Steves guidebook tucked in her shoulder bag.

“Have fun. Take that Pulitzer winning picture,” he tells her; taking a drink out of the steaming mug of coffee he’s been cradling to fight off the morning chill. He picks up a bun, spreads jam on it and takes a huge bite. .

“Come with me.” Veronica says, giving him her best come hither look.

“Conference call.” Duncan mumbles around a mouthful of bread. When they get back to Neptune he’s going to take a vice-presidency at Kane Software and Jake needs him to participate in one conference call about their latest acquisition during their honeymoon. Today’s the day. Veronica shrugs and walks over to stand next to where Duncan is sitting. She leans over and gives him a kiss on the top of his head. Duncan’s arms go around her waist and his head rests against her abdomen.

“Hurry back.” He murmurs.

Veronica starts by walking to the train station to buy her ticket for the day. The morning air still has a slight chill and she shivers. She stops for a moment and looks around her, taking in the ancient buildings of the town, the cobbled streets. For the first time in a long time everything isn’t colored by loss and pain. She feels happy.

*****

When Logan first sees her he’s not entirely sure she’s not a hallucination, a product of his desires conjured up by his alcohol infused brain; another game of torture on top of his dreams where he touches her and she kisses him then he wakes up alone, sweating and reaches for the half empty bottle on the nightstand.

He’s stopped caring about everything. He doesn’t bathe, doesn’t shave, just lays in bed or on the couch, a bottle dangling between his fingers, the liquor burning down his throat. He thinks he should at least care what the cleaning lady thinks as hears her clucking and muttering in Italian as she shovels empty bottles into plastic bags.

_Turista stupido Americano._

He doesn’t care.

Logan hasn’t been entirely sober for over a week now, but he hasn’t been entirely drunk either, at least not as drunk as he’d like to be. Only alcoholics can survive on booze alone for days on end, and although Logan’s sure he’s headed that direction, he hasn’t reached that point quite yet. Which is why one morning he finds himself with an empty refrigerator and empty cupboards and decides he needs to go out.

Somehow he manages splash water on his face and to find some clean clothes. He pushes his sunglasses up his nose so the Mediterranean morning sun won’t be too harsh on his stinging eyes. He even runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it into some semblance of order. He stares at his own image in the mirror. Face gaunt, stubble, eyes bloodshot. He knows he doesn’t smell good.

“Fucking mess, Echolls.” Logan mutters, his voice jarring in the silence of the apartment.

He’s unsteady as he makes his way the local bakery, winding through narrow streets, occasionally grabbing onto a crumbling stone wall for support. He cuts through an alleyway when he sees her and suddenly the hazy curtain of alcohol is brushed away and everything is sharp and clear.

_Veronica_

She’s walking down the street, a camera bag hanging off her shoulder. He almost calls out to her. That’s what he would do in his dreams and she would turn to him and tell him it was all a mistake and she wants him to come home, come back to her. He doesn’t fall out because he’s pretty sure this isn’t a dream. It’s the way she moves her hips, the way the morning light is glinting off her hair, the way she flips it back off her face. He steps out of the alleyway and he thinks he can smell her familiar scent wafting behind her. Suddenly Logan can’t breathe.

_Veronica_

“Veronica.”

Logan doesn’t realize he’s said her name out loud until she stops. She stays there, frozen in place, not turning around. Just standing. The sounds around them fade away and Logan thinks he can hear her breathing. He steps toward her and she flinches at the sound of his feet on the cobblestones. Finally he’s standing directly behind her, only inches away, and he’s still not convinced that he’s going to wake up any minute, drooling on the couch, surrounded by empty bottles.

“Veronica,” he says again, her name strange on his tongue.

“No,” she whispers into the silence. She says it again and he sees her shoulders tremble. Logan reaches out, touches her skin. It’s warm under his fingertips, and he finally knows this isn’t a dream.

_Oh, god._

“No, no, no.”

It’s her mantra as she turns around to face him and he sees tears on her face, fear in her eyes. Then she’s in his arms and five years seem like yesterday. He’s kissing her hard on the mouth and her arms are wrapping around his neck, her hips pushing into his. It’s like he never left.

There are a million things he wants to say. They start with ‘I’m sorry’ and end with ‘I love you’ and include everything in-between. He says nothing. He just kisses her back, his hand resting on the small of her back, tracing its way up her spine, pulling her tighter against him.

“Take me home.” She whispers as she pulls back, resting her forehead against his. He doesn’t know if she means his apartment or back to Neptune, the place they both called home once upon a time. Based on the way she’s looking at him combined with the ache spreading through his groin, he guesses somewhere close would be preferable. He says nothing but take her hand in his, marveling how small it feels and how strong her grip his around his fingers. He takes her home.

*****

Veronica’s entire world turns upside down when she hears the voice behind her. She stops in mid-step, paralyzed.

It’s as dream, a product of her feverish imagination that won’t leave her be, won’t let her be happy with Duncan who is sweet and kind and caring and everything she should want. It’s her inner most thoughts torturing her, conjuring up his voice whispering her name across cobblestones, bouncing against ancient walls and imbedding deep in her heart.

Except that she can hear him breathing.

She’s nauseous, bile stinging her throat, as she stands there, frozen, unable to move.

_Logan_

She hears him move behind her, stepping toward her and she flinches at the sound that reinforces that this isn’t some crazy product of her deepest desires and dreams. The sound of him moving to stand behind her is all too real. Then his hand is on her shoulder and Veronica thinks she might die.

At least it would be over. She’d be with her dad and Lilly and they’d welcome her and wrap there arms around her and tell her that living was never worth it compared to the complete and utter bliss of death.

“No, no no no....”

She doesn’t realize she’s been saying anything until he spins her around and his mouth on hers stops her words, and she feels stubble scraping on her cheek. Then his lips are on her face, brushing her cheek, her forehead, and Veronica doesn’t realize she’s been crying until he kisses away a tear from the corner of her eye. She wishes he could soothe her, take away the tears and the pain, but they both know its part of the territory of betrayal. It’s something they’re both well schooled in.

He’s staring at her, face pale like he’s seen a ghost, eyes bloodshot. She’s thought about this moment, wondered what he’d look like all these years later and now as she stares back she realizes that he looks like Logan. The Logan she’s been dreaming of. The Logan she loves.

_Fuck._

She wants to ask him a million questions, to hit him until her fists sting so he can feel the pain he left her with when he disappeared. She wants to ask him why he’s here. Why now. Why not two weeks ago when she zipped up her pure silk wedding dress and stared at her image in the mirror, wondering why she was so sad when everything was so perfect. She wants to tell him she would have walked away, left Duncan and everyone behind, even on her wedding day, if he’d just showed up.

Instead she asks him to take her home, and she’s not really sure what she’s asking, not sure if she cares. He stares into her eyes the nods and silently takes her hand in his, and she doesn’t bother to glance around furtively because she knows Duncan is still on the conference call and there’s no one in this tiny Italian town that will care that Logan wraps his arm around her waist, and pulls her tightly against his side.

The stairs to his apartment are steep and creaky, and Veronica grips the banister as they climb. The hallway smells old, like dust and layers of memories. Finally they are in front of a green painted door and Logan is fumbling in his pocket for a set of keys. He glances over at her and smirks, and for a moment she sees a flash of the old Logan Echolls, cocky and confident, then the moment’s gone, replaced by a look of raw desire that shakes Veronica to her roots. He leans in and his mouth is on hers again, hot and wet and slippery, and she’s practically climbing up him as he lifts her up so she can, wrap her legs around his waist. They stumble through the door and Veronica has the breath knocked out of her for a moment as Logan slams her hard up against the wall, her head bouncing against the rough stucco.

“I need to fuck you.” He mutters against her lips and it takes all her brain cells to hiss ‘yes’ against his lips. Then her legs are unwrapping from around his waist and her feet are on the ground. They pull apart as they both fumble at buttons and zippers until his pants are pulled down and her shorts are a pile on the floor. Then her arms are around his neck and his hands are on either side of her rib cage, and she’s back against the wall, hips flexing, legs wrapping around his waist as he pushes into her with one quick movement.

She’s swollen and wet and she tightens her legs around his waist as he thrusts into her, the only sound in the room their heavy breathing, pants and the occasional moan. Veronica feels tears leaking from the edges of her eyes and she whispers his name over and over, sucking on his earlobe, tracing down the column of his neck with her tongue. It’s fast and dirty, everything grows tight and she feels the melting ache spread from her groin into her abdomen and through her thighs. She shudders as she comes, burying her face in his neck, feeling his arms tighten around her as he jerks against her and her name fades into a groan on his lips. They stay like that, her back pressed into the rough stucco of the hallway, her chest heaving, her arms around his neck, fingers tangled in his hair, his thighs shaking from exertion, sweat sticking their skin together as the sun starts to warm his apartment.

“I love you.” Logan whispers into her hair as he tries to catch his breath.

Veronica feels her stomach tighten at his words. There was a time when she would have pulled back, spit his words back at him, slapped him hard across the face and asked him how he could dare say such a thing after everything he’d done. There was another time when those words would have filled her with indescribable joy. Now she just tightens her arms around him and says nothing because nothing is simple anymore. She kisses his check, then the edge of his eye, then the corner of his mouth, until she presses her lips to his in a kiss that she hopes says everything she can’t find a way to vocalize.

_I love you too_

Logan smiles down at her as his breathing starts to slow. His hand comes up and he trails a finger down the side of her face.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he murmurs as he leans in, kissing her fully on the mouth, slow and sweet and Veronica starts to feel sick. She takes in a deep, shaky breath and her hands come up between them, plucking at the thin cotton of his shirt that’s hanging open, pushing at the warm skin of his chest, trying to ignore how it feels under her palms.

“No,” she whispers. Her mind is racing. How did this happen, so far away from Neptune, where she’d never thought she’d see him. “We can’t…”

Veronica doesn’t finish her sentence because Logan’s mouth is on hers again, his tongue slipping between her lips and Veronica moans, her body taking over where her brain left off as her palms stop pushing at him and start to slide down his torso then slip around his waist. Finally he pullsback and Veronica fights to focus on what she was trying to say.

“We…” she starts again but Logan puts a finger on her lips.

“Shhhhhhh,” he says, his face just inches from her and Veronica aches to feel his lips on hers again. “Let me say something.”

“Okay.” She says weakly.

“I’m sorry.” Logan starts. “I should have never left. I just couldn’t see a way around what he did to you, and he’s part of me, and how could you ever forgive me.”

Veronica feels tears fill her eyes as she listens to his words.

“He fucking killed your father.” Logan bites out and Veronica sees hardness in his eyes, hatred for what Aaron did. “I couldn’t get past that and it felt like the right thing to do, to leave and remove every reminder of what happened from your life. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Veronica tightens her arms around him and pulls him closer, wanting to melt into him until there’s nothing between them; no Aaron, no image of her father being kept alive, a machine making his chest rise up and down, his face swollen from the fluid they’d pumped into him, trying to keep him alive just a little longer. She wants this moment and nothing else.

“You should have stayed.” Veronica says, her eyes locking with his. “We would have figured it out.”

If he’d stayed she never would have watched as Duncan bent down on one knee, his face full of love and sincerity. There would have been no extravagant Neptune wedding of the year planned by Celeste and her team of wedding coordinators. Duncan wouldn’t be sitting on the yacht as his wife fucked the boy she’d dated for all of three weeks.

“I should have stayed.” Logan echoes as his fingers find the hem of her tank top and they start to pull it up and over her head. Veronica lets go of him just long enough for him to slip it off and she reaches behind her and finds the clasp to her bra, undoing it and letting the wispy piece of fabric fall to the ground. Then they are finally skin against skin and Logan is kissing her as he scoops her into his arms and carries her through a neatly furnished living room into what must be his bedroom, sunlight splashing across a jewel-toned silk bedspread that feels soft against her bare back as he gently set her down.

This time they take it slow. Long drawn out kisses, making Veronica ache for more, Logan covering every inch of her body with his lips and swipes of his tongue. Then she’s on top of him, straddling his hips, pinning his arms over his head as she traces along his clavicle with her tongue, tastes the skin where his shoulder and neck met, sucks along the shell of his ear, loving the way he pushes his hips up against her and chants her name over and over.

Logan rolls her over onto her back again and his hand dips to spread her thighs then slips between them and he slides his fingers against her. She’s wet and hot and slick and the feel of his fingers makes sparks fly behind Veronica’s eyes. Her heart aches with his every touch and she feels her cheeks wet with tears. Then Logan is pushing her legs up with his other hand as he settles between her thighs, his weight fully on her and she gasps as he slips inside her. They stayed like that for a moment, Logan’s arms shaking with exertion as he holds himself above her, Veronica shaking with desire underneath him, tasting salt on her tongue as she fightst back another sob.

“Don’t cry.” Logan whispers, looking down at her face. She blinks, stares at him as the blinding desire is replaced with a strange anger: anger at everything, at everyone, at how things had turned out.

“Fuck you,” Veronica spits back, angry with herself for being vulnerable, angry with him for making her feel so much, angry with Aaron Echolls for starting this entire thing the day he brained Lilly and threw all their lives into chaos. How were they supposed to survive this? “I’m allowed to cry.”

“Veronica.”

His voice is soft, concerned and Veronica wraps her arms around his back, digs her nails into his skin and pushes her hips up against him.

“Fucking move.” She hisses, wanting him to fuck her until the pain disappears and it’s just the two of them again, riding through white hot heat, all emotion and thought replaced by sensation. She needs that.

He begins to move, fast, hard, thighs slapping against her ass as he thrust deep inside her. Veronica holds onto Logan as he pushed her into the bed with all his weight, the tendons on his neck standing out as he strains to keep the rhythm. Then she’s writhing against him, coming undone as melting and aching shifted into a deep burning and a string of expletives are grunted from between clenched teeth. They collapse together into a sweaty pile, breathing fast, her face buried in the crook of his neck, his lips leaving weak, satiated kisses along her shoulder. Logan rolls off her to lay on his side, one hand absently stroking her skin as they both slowly returned to reality. Veronica turns to face him, curling her body toward his, her legs tangling with his, her face buried in his chest as he slips an arm around her and pulls her closer.

*****

They lay like that for what seems like hours, the only sound in the room is their breathing. Shouts of children playing on the beach just blocks away drift through the open window and occasionally they hear the clatter of a bicycle speeding by on the ancient cobblestone street. Logan puts his hand on hers, looking at how small it looks against his. She turns her hand so her palm presses against his. For the first time Logan notices the flash of a clear, perfect diamond.

“Nice rock.” He says, turning his hand so he could look at the top of her hand stretched across his palm. Veronica glances at her hand then back at Logan’s face.

_Duncan._

“It’s big.” Veronica agrees, sighing as she contemplates it. Then she pulls her hand away and starts to tug at her rings, slipping them over her knuckles then holding them tightly in her fist. Logan watches her the entire time, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Are you sure?” he asks. Veronica nods then kissed him softly.

“I was meant to find you here,” she says softly. “I can’t stay married to Duncan. Not now.”

For the first time since he saw her walking down that narrow street, Logan feels tears well in his eyes as he realizes what Veronica is willing to give up. And what for; a borderline alcoholic trust fund kid who had spent four years wandering aimlessly; the son of the man who killed her father. Logan wasn’t sure if it was a fair trade, but he isn’t about to question Veronica when she’s lying satiated in his arms. Instead he brings a hand up and traces a finger across her face, following the lines of her eyes, the edge of her nose the curve of her lips. He’s about to destroy a marriage and he couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’s been happier.

“What do we do now?” Logan whispers as her eyes flutter shut with his touch.

“Home,” Veronica murmurs. “It’s time to go home.”

They spent the rest of the day lying in Logan’s bed, making love then resting until they were ready again. Veronica told him about college, her different classes. She talked about a study abroad in South Africa where she’d photographed the Soweto Township then displayed them in the annual USC art show. Logan memorized the way she felt in his arms, the way her mouth felt on his, they way her skin was warm under his fingertips as he found new ways to make her moan and gasp his name. He told her about living in Europe, how he moved from city to city, and never stopping to become part of anything. He’d finally stopped moving when he came to this sleepy Italian seaside town but it never felt like home. He told her about the e-mail about Aaron’s final moments before the state took his life, how he felt a strange sense of relief to know the person who had created so much chaos was gone.

He told her how sometimes he still missed his father. The one that had been good to him. She told him she missed hers too.

As the sun starts to slip behind the horizon, Veronica rolls out of bed and starts to search for her clothes. She slips the rings she’d abandoned on his nightstand back onto the third finger of her left hand. She has to go back, she says, her face sad. She owes Duncan an explanation in person, some time to digest the fact that his marriage had always been based on him being her second choice.

“I love him, Logan,” She says, her eyes glossy with tears. “I don’t want to hurt him like this.”

“I know,” Logan whispers as he kissed her fingers, presses his lips to her palm, nibbles his way down the delicate skin inside her wrist and Veronica pulls her hand away, telling him he’s was making it hard for her to do what she knows she has to. He pulls her against him, wondering how he would manage to let her go again, especially now that he knows what it felt like to bury himself deep in her warmth and come with her name on his lips.

They would meet back in Neptune. She’d said it was time to go home and Logan knew there was truth in her words. It was time to stop running away from everything and everyone. It took every last bit of his strength to say ‘goodbye’ as she stood in his doorway, the look on her face melting his heart. He forced his hands to hang by his side, tried not to reach out and grab her, force her to stay with him. He tried to ignore the sick feeling of worry that curled in the pit of his stomach, the nagging, aching feeling that he might not see her again. He told himself he could stop worrying, that the years of dreaming about her, waking with her name on his lips, were over.

He rushed across the apartment the minute the door closed and pulled open the french doors, stepping out onto the balcony so he could watch as she walked down the street, back toward the marina, drinking in the way the late afternoon sunlight glinted off her hair, flexing his fingers as he remembered what it felt like to run them through it.

_Take care. Be safe. I’ll see you soon._

*****

Going home wasn’t as hard as Logan expected. He’d always dreaded even the idea, but now everything felt right. It took him a couple weeks to get everything in order. He gave notice to the grandmotherly landlady and arranged to sell the furniture. Then he searched through one of the back closets and found it; the same suitcase he’d packed five years ago.

_Full circle._

Rome to London. London to New York. New York to LAX.

Trina was at the airport when he finally stumbled into the main terminal, blinking in the bright California sunlight. There was noise and movement all around him, so different from the sleepy Italian seaside town that had been his home for the last couple years. She walked up to him, slowly, hesitantly.

“Sis.” Logan said then pulled her into his arms for a giant bear hug. He felt her arms go around his back and she gripped him tightly. She was the only family he had left, no matter how flawed.

“You’re really back,” Trina said, her voice muffled against the fabric of his t-shirt. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be here or not.”

Logan told her all about Riomaggiore and Italy as they stood next to the baggage carousel. About the sunshine and the sleepy pace and the cats that roamed all over the villages streets. Trina listened silently then turned to him and looked at him, studying his face.

“Why are you back, Logan?” she asked. The question had been hanging between them since he saw her standing in the terminal. Logan swallowed. He didn’t want to say it because it would be real if someone else knew about Veronica. He just looked at Trina searching for the words to tell her that he was here to destroy a marriage and get his life back. Trina didn’t say anything. She just searched his face, trying to read what Logan was refusing to tell her.

“It’s her.” Trina said, breaking the silence. Logan wanted to tell her everything but he couldn’t find the words.

“My bag!” Logan said as he glanced over Trina’s shoulder saw the fluorescent green tape he’d attached to the handle slide by. He bounded over and grabbed the handle and pulled the heavy bag off the metal slats of the carousel, grateful for the distraction. He flashed a smile at Trina as he dragged the bag back toward where she was standing with arms crossed over her chest. She got the message. He wasn’t going to talk about why he was back.

“So do I get the guest room?” he said, signaling that the conversation was over and it was time to move onto trivial things like securing a bed in her adequately spacious condo two blocks off Dog Beach.

“I even washed the sheets, asshat.” Trina said, punching him playfully in the arm as they walked across the shining terminal floor and toward the parking garage.

*****

The first week Logan was back in Neptune he filled his time with planning. He contacted a realtor and started to look for a house. Not just any house but a house for _them_. A place he could finally call home. He cooked dinner for Trina and they spent an entire evening sharing actual good memories about growing up. He woke up early in the morning and ran on the beach.

He waited.

Veronica said she would call when she had things squared away. He had wanted her to stay with him but she said no. She wanted to tell Duncan face to face. She owed him that. And she needed to find the right time. She’d see him back in Neptune. Then she kissed him and Logan knew he couldn’t deny her anything she wanted. So he let her go, watched her walk away, holding her promise to return close to his heart.

The days slipped by and soon it had been over a week. Logan stalked around the apartment, trying to ignore the unrest growing in his stomach. He snapped at Trina and she glared at him. He fingered the half empty bottle of scotch Trina had sitting in one of the cupboards. He hadn’t had a drink since that night.

Finally Trina had sat down across from him as he was trying to read through the Neptune paper, pushing the pages away so she could look at his face.

“Call her,” Trina said. “You’re going crazy and I think you might take me with you if this keeps up.”

She was right. Logan knew this as he digested Trina’s words. He needed to call her. But he didn’t want to because deep down he knew something was wrong. If he didn’t’ call, if he just stayed there, pacing around the small apartment, pretending that nothing was wrong, he could hold onto the hope that had started the moment he put his hand on her shoulder and felt her skin. It was the moment he knew she was real and everything was about to change.

“If you don’t call her, I might do it.” Trina warned. Logan flashed her a wan smile.

“Funny.”

Trina lifted the hand that had been resting on her lap and set the cordless phone on the table. Logan stared at it then back at her face. Trina nodded at the phone. He didn’t notice how his hand trembled as he picked it up.

“The number?” Logan asked as held the phone in his palm. Trina pushed a pad of paper toward him. A phone number was scrawled on it in her spidery handwriting. The boy scouts had nothing on Trina Echolls when it came to being prepared. Logan punched the number into the number pad and listened at the phone rang.

Once.

Twice.

It was answered in the middle of the third ring.

“Kane residence.” A strange voice said on the other end. Logan felt sick.

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat. “ah, ummm…may I speak to Veronica Mars…uh…I mean Veronica Kane.”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

Logan swallowed hard.

“Echolls. Logan Echolls.”

“One moment.”

The line was silent and Logan gripped the phone as if his life depended on it. Then he heard a click and the voice was back.

“I’m sorry. Mrs. Kane is not available.”

Logan closed his eyes and there was silence on the line.

“When…when will she be available?”

“I’m sorry sir. Mrs. Kane will not be available to take your call and she asked you to not call here again.”

There was another click and then the harsh buzz of the dial tone in his ear. Logan’s mouth was dry and his hands shook as he sat with the phone still held to his ear, trying to make sense of what he’d just been told.

“Logan?” Trina’s voice sounded far away. He looked up at her and saw concern written all over her face. Tears stung the edges of his eyes.

“She won’t talk to me.”

*****

It took a week of drinking to make Logan come to a decision.

Veronica wouldn’t talk to him. Despite the request of her minion, Logan continued to call. He called in the middle of the morning when he knew Duncan would be at work and never on the weekend. Each time he was told that Mrs. Kane wouldn’t talk to him.

He drove to the supermarket and bought three bottles of their most expensive scotch, then returned home and carefully unscrewed the cap on one of the bottles, tipped it back and let the booze burn down the back of his throat. Trina had come in after he’d made it through about a third of the bottle and frowned at him as he lay sprawled on her couch.

“You can’t drink her away.” She said, her hands on her hips. Logan didn’t say anything. He just lifted the bottle in a mock toast then brought it to his lips and tipped it back.

“Fuck you, Trina.” He sputtered when he was done swallowing.

“You were always a nasty drunk.” She said, turning away and heading toward her bedroom.

“And you were always a nasty actress.” Logan called after her, regretting his words the moment they left his mouth. Trina had been nothing but kind to him since he came back and how he was repaying her with insults.

There was only so much Logan could take. He decided it was time to something besides sit around and self-medicate.

The charity ball was at the country club and everyone who was anyone was going to be attending. It was the event of the year and an excuse for the perfectly tanned wives of wealthy executives to pull out the latest creation they’d purchased off the runways of Paris during Fashion Week and show it off to the crème-de-le-crème of Neptune high society. There would be cocktails and small talk, and by the end of the night someone would be fucking someone else’s wife in the last stall of the upstairs women’s bathroom, providing months worth of gossip until next year’s charity ball. One year it had been his father fucking someone in the bathroom, but Logan didn’t find that out until after his death and the tabloids started their never-ending deconstruction of Aaron Echolls’ character.

Logan fastened his cufflinks and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He looked thinner, older and there was pain in his eyes. He smiled wryly. If Veronica wouldn’t talk to him, it was time for him to go to her. He wasn’t a scared teenage anymore. He wasn’t running away this time.

For the last ten years the annual charity ball had been hosted by the king and queen of Neptune society, the couple who oozed money and glamour: Jake and Celeste Kane. They would circulate among the guests, her arm linked through his, skillfully chatting with each person and partially joking that they knew their carefully selected guests would be generous with Neptune’s latest pet cause.

This year was different. They were passing the torch to their son and his charming new wife.

“You sure you don’t want to come?” Logan asked, poking his head into the living room. Trina was curled on the couch.

“This is your gig, bro,” she said, tipping her head back to look at him. “Just don’t do anything too stupid.”

“Stupid? Me? Never.”

Trina smiled.

“Just be careful. My days of peeling you off the floor are over.”

Logan smiled. They both knew it was a lie.

He had to borrow her BMW because he still hadn’t bought a new car. As he wound through the back roads of Neptune Logan thought about what was about to happen. He loved Veronica. She loved him. She promised she would leave Duncan and they would be together. Logan couldn’t believe that she lied. That was too cold for Veronica. Something had to have happened. By the end of the night she would be leaving with him. There was no other option.

He’d run away five years ago. This time he decided to fight. No matter how good Duncan was to her, Logan knew Veronica’s heart belonged to him.

He pulled around the circular driveway lit with paper lanterns. As he unfolded himself from the seat and handed the keys to the over-eager valet he could hear big-band swing drifting through the warm summer night. Couples were standing around the door, women in bright silk and satin, hair coiled perfectly. Men in tuxes, smelling of expensive cologne stood by their side. Logan made his way up the steps to the entrance of the club ballroom, stopping when he was standing in the foyer.

“Fuck me, if it’s not Logan Echolls.”

Logan froze at the sound of his name and the familiar voice behind him. He turned slowly to find Duncan standing just a few feet behind him.

“Dude,” Duncan said, crossing the space between them and throwing his arms around Logan. “It’s been a long time.”

Logan smiled. Veronica hadn’t told Duncan because if she had, he had a strange way of greeting the man who had fucked his wife on their honeymoon.

“Where have you been?” Duncan asked, throwing his arm around Logan’s shoulder as they walked into the grand ballroom.

“Around.” Logan stuttered, not sure what to say, not wanting to have to explain things to Duncan.

“Ha. Fine explanation for disappearing for five years.”

“Where…” Logan started, wanting to ask where Veronica was when Duncan interrupted him.

“So much has changed since you left,” Duncan said, holding up his left hand. Logan saw a shiny plain gold band on his ring finger. “Veronica. Me. Married.”

Logan tried to look surprised. He saw a brief flash of steel in Duncan’s eyes and realized that his friendliness was an act. Duncan Kane had never been blind to how Veronica had felt about Logan all those years ago. Now he was establishing boundaries with Logan, making sure he knew who had gotten the girl in the end. Logan fought to keep his face neutral.

“Congrats.”

“You’ll need to congratulate me for one more thing,” Duncan said, a grin plastered across his face.

“What?” Logan stuttered, not sure how much more of this he could take. He glanced away from Duncan and scanned the room, trying to look like he was paying attention when all he wanted was for Duncan to leave him so he could find Veronica.

“It’s big, man.”

Logan didn’t care about whatever latest merger Duncan had pulled off as the golden boy of Kane Enterprises, or his latest large contribution to some needy charity. He didn’t give a fuck about whatever Duncan was trying to tell him. He just wanted to find her, to see her face again. His body hummed with tension as he looked for her. He ignored Duncan’s hand the sleeve of his tux. He was so distracted he didn’t really hear what Duncan said at first.

“I’m going to be a dad.”

Duncan’s words started to sink in. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. His eyes swung back to Duncan’s face. He took in his blinding smile, the excitement in his eyes. Logan blinked as he watched Duncan’s lips move with the next words from his mouth.

“Veronica’s pregnant.”

_Pregnant._

“On our honeymoon. Who would have thought.”

That was the moment the bottom fell out of Logan Echolls’ world.

*****

Duncan was pacing the deck when Veronica got back to the yacht. She forced a smile as she saw him standing, watching her. She slowly climbed up the chrome ladder on the side of the boat the padded across the textured white fiberglass, toward him. She was practicing what she would say.

She thought it was a good idea to break the news that his marriage was over slowly, give Duncan some time to digest it. As Veronica walked down the narrow cobbled streets, back toward the boat, away from him, it took all her willpower not to turn around and run back, to bury herself in his arms. By the time she was walking toward him she’d decided it was a stupid idea to meet Logan back in Neptune. She would tell Duncan tonight, pack a bag and make her way back to the apartment. Fear and excitement mingled together, making her stomach hurt, her chest clench.

“Duncan…” Veronica started as she stopped in front of him. She paused, willing the words to come out.

_I don’t love you. Not that way. I can’t do this._

Before she could say anything, Duncan interrupted her, his face animated.

“We have to go back. The merger is in trouble and dad needs me to help negotiate.”

“No…” Veronica stuttered, surprised.

“Babe,” Duncan started. “I need this. Please. I know you’re disappointed, but as soon as it’s over we’ll fly back and finish the honeymoon. I promise.”

She didn’t say anything, nodding dumbly. Duncan leaped forward and pulled her into a hug, whispering thank you into her neck. Veronica hesitantly brought her arms up to return his hug. She’d tell him when they were back in Neptune. Logan wouldn’t be back for a couple weeks. It would take time for him to get the paperwork together, he’d said. And he needed to take care of the apartment.

She had time.

Rome to London. London to New York. New York to LAX.

It was in the airport that Veronica got sick for the first time, making it to the bathroom moments before she retched into the sink. She held her hair back with one hand as the other steadied herself on the counter and heaved over and over.

It was her first experience with jet lag. That’s what she told herself as she rinsed out her mouth with water. She stared out the window of the car as Duncan navigated the busy California freeway, then as he wound his way up to their new house on a cliff drive with a spectacular view of the ocean.

“Tired?” Duncan asked, his hand warm on her bare thigh. Veronica nodded, glancing over at him then turning her head to stare out the window again.

“Jet lag,” Duncan’s voice sounded far away.

Duncan was up early the next morning adjusting his tie in the mirror when Veronica rushed past him, her silk bathrobe railing behind her, and knelt on the cold bathroom floor in front of the toilet as she threw up again. He was behind her, holding back her hair, a soothing hand on her shoulder. Then he was gone for the day and Veronica was left to rattle around the empty house alone with her thoughts.

She decided to tell him that night. It gave her some purpose, so that afternoon she pulled on shorts and a tank top and headed to he local farmer’s market. She picked up fresh fish and vegetables, took them home and pulled out one of the cookbooks they’d received as wedding gifts. Hours later she was sitting at the dining room table with a perfectly prepared meal, flickering candles and no Duncan. Finally she decided to go to bed. She’d tell him the next day.

The next day it was the same routine. Duncan up early, Veronica retching in the toilet. Duncan gone all day and all night, Veronica napping on the soft brown leather couch with the afternoon sunlight splashing across her legs, reminding her of him. If she closed her eyes she swore she could smell him, feel his fingers skate up her leg. She thought she could smell the dust and sunshine of Italy. She promised herself she would tell Duncan the next day.

On the fourth day of throwing up in the morning Duncan decided this wasn’t ordinary jet lag and called him mom. That afternoon instead of lying on the couch daydreaming about Logan, Veronica had Celeste Kane sitting across from her picking at the take-out salad she’d picked up on her way to the house.

“You’re throwing up every day?”

Veronica nodded, wishing the words ‘throwing up’ didn’t make the bile rise in her throat again, didn’t make her remember the taste on her tongue.

“And you said you’re really tired?”

“Jet lag.” Veronica said as she shoved a forkful of iceberg lettuce in her mouth and crunched down.

“Honey,” Celeste said, setting her fork down and leaned down to grab her purse and set it on the table. “I think you need to consider another possibility.

She rummaged around her bag and pulled out a small white paper sack from the local Neptune pharmacy. Veronica stared at it, confused, until Celeste’s well-manicured hand dipped inside and pulled out a longish purple box.

_Early Pregnancy Test._

*****

It wasn’t jet lag.

Veronica didn’t need the test to tell her that. She’d known the moment that Celeste had set the text box on their glossy surface of their kitchen table. The blood had drained from her face and hand went to her abdomen.

_Logan._

She’d smiled at Celeste, managed to calmly agree that it may not be jet lag after all, politely told her that she’d wait until Duncan came home to take the test. The first thing Veronica did after Celeste left the house was rummage through the bathroom, find the birth control pills she kept in the cabinet and throw them against the wall. Then she slipped a fingernail under the edge of the flap on the box and loosened it from the glue that was holding it shut. She pulled out the test and quickly read the directions.

She peed.

She looked at the stick.

Tears pricked at her eyes.

_Positive._

_A fucking baby._

She wanted to think it was Logan’s baby as she felt a tear roll down her cheek. How many times had they fucked each other that day? If only pregnancy was an issue of quantity. It wasn’t. Veronica stumbled out of the bathroom and collapsed on the bed as sobs wracked her body.

“Noooooooooooooo….”

In a matter of seconds everything had changed. It had been complicated to leave Duncan. Now it felt impossible. There was a baby involved. Celeste knew she was pregnant. Logan would be back in town in less than twenty-four hours. Duncan would be so happy. If she told him there would be gossip and paternity tests, and if the baby was Duncan’s….

Veronica lay on the bed for what felt like hours, her tears wetting the duvet, fingers digging into the soft fabric as she cried. Her sobs would slow until she lay there with tears flowing silently down her cheeks. Then she would think of him, picture his face when she told him she was going to end it with Duncan, and a sob would catch in the back of her throat and it would start all over again. She whispered his name into the empty room.

_Logan_

Duncan was home late again. By the time she heard his key in the door Veronica had washed her face and changed her clothes. She’d also come to a decision.

“Hi baby, still up?” Duncan said, kissing her on the cheek. Veronica threw her arms around his neck and pulled him close. Duncan’s hands flew out in surprise at her sudden embrace then his arms went around her back and pulled her even closer.

“What’s up?” he murmured in her hair. Veronica took a deep breath.

“I…,” she started.

_I don’t love you._

_I don’t want to be married._

_I fucked Logan._

She didn’t say any of the things she wanted to. Instead she tiled her head to look into his sweet, concerned face and said what she thought she should say.

“I’m…I’m pregnant.”

With those words she walked away from Logan just like he’d walked away from her five years ago. It felt like the right thing to do.

*****

The first thing Veronica did the next day, after throwing up, was to tell the housekeeper that she’d like her to start answering the phone during the day. It would only be a matter of time before he started calling and Veronica didn’t want to answer the phone to hear his voice on the other end. Two days later Consuelo poked her head into the living room and told Veronica that Mr. Echolls was on the line.

“I don’t want to talk to him.” Veronica said quietly. “And tell him not to call here again.”

It had been easier than she thought.

Duncan was ecstatic about the baby. He brought home ice cream and pickles the next night.

“Just in case.” he told Veronica, smiling as he set the fifth pint in the freezer. She couldn’t help but smile back.

Jake slapped Duncan on the back when he and Celeste came over the next night. He turned to Veronica and asked her if she wanted a girl or a boy.

“I just want the baby to be healthy.” Veronica said lamely. How do you tell your father-in-law that you don’t want the baby at all? Celeste ran out to the car and returned with a huge Baby Gap bag filled to the brim. Veronica pulled out the tiny outfits and cooed appropriately at each one.

Only Wallace saw through her façade as he sat with her on the terrace sipping iced herbal tea.

“Is this a good thing, V.?” He asked, his gaze penetrating through her carefully constructed act.

“I don’t know.” Veronica sighed. It was the closest to the truth she’d come in a week.

“You just look…sad.”

Wallace had graduated from San Diego State with a degree in secondary education and was set to start teaching writing at Neptune High in the fall. It felt strange since Veronica didn’t feel that much older than the eighteen year olds that soon would be absorbing Wallace’s knowledge. She was just grateful he came back and didn’t end up moving somewhere like Seattle, or god forbid, the east coast.

Silence. Another sip of tea. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below.

“It’s complicated,” Veronica said after a while, hoping Wallace would accept her lame explanation.

“You can talk to me.”

_No I can’t._

The conversation drifted to other things. The weather. Wallace’s plans for his class in the fall. Celeste was going to decorate the nursery. The big charity ball that weekend that Celeste had convinced Duncan to host this year. Anything but her pregnancy. Finally Wallace stood up and stretched a little.

“You can talk to me, you know. BFF.”

Veronica smiled at their inside joke from high school and realized she missed Wallace and the camaraderie that used to fall so easily between them.

“I know I can, Wallace. BFF.”

She stood up and Wallace hugged her then patted her tummy lightly.

“Take care, little guy.”

As she watched him back his ten-year-old Volvo out their long driveway Veronica realized that for the first time she was happy to see Wallace go.

Two days later Veronica was zipping up her sky blue silk gown and Duncan was kissing the back of her neck.

“Mmmmm,” he murmured against her skin. “You smell good.”

The limo dropped them off at the entrance and Veronica immediately headed toward the bathroom, her stomach feeling queasy. Duncan stayed at the doorway to greet the guests, always the proper host. She didn’t throw up, just sat on one of the overstuffed benches and told herself she needed to get out there, stand by Duncan’s side, be a real wife.

_Real wife._

When had Veronica become someone whose job was to lean on her man’s arm and smile prettily? She used to be tough, independent. No one told her what to do, where to go. So much had changed with her dad’s death. Everything she knew to be solid in her life had turned out shaky and unstable. Then Logan left….

_Logan_

She shook her head, trying to get his face out of her mind. Finally Veronica stood up, smoothed the fabric of her dress, wet a tissue and wiped under her eyes and pushed out the door to face her new world. There was no room for regret. She made sure of that the day she decided to stay with Duncan.

“Veronica.”

She froze. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing this to be a dream, another dream where there’s no marriage or Duncan or baby. She’s not hosting a charity ball. He’s not whispering her name with such pain that she knows that he must know. Someone told him.

“Logan.” His name is a whisper between parted lips. She turned to find him standing in the hallway, his face white and pinched. He knows.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Don’t I deserve to know?”

She didn’t have an answer. She could only stare at him, willing him to be an apparition, a ghost, like the ghost of her dad that had tormented her the months after his death.

“Were you ever going to tell me? After that day, don’t you think it could be mine?”

She knew it was his. Deep inside her soul Veronica knew she was carrying Logan’s baby. Her hand unconsciously went to her stomach.

“Fuck you.” She hissed. “How can you walk in here all sanctimonious and hurt after what you did? We wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t walked away five years ago.”

It was almost five years to the day. She could still remember the late summer air tinged with fall coolness as she stood on the porch reading the note. She could still remember how the bottom fell out of her life.

Logan stepped toward Veronica. Her hands shook. Her breath hitched. Her eyes went to his neck, watching the way his Adams apple bobbed, remembering how his skin tasted.

_Fuck_

Veronica took a step backwards to keep distance between them. It was the only way she could keep herself angry, keep herself from throwing herself into his arms.

“Our baby.” Logan said quietly. She could see his anger slipping away.

“Or Duncan’s baby.” Veronica said, her voice just as quiet.

“Does it matter?” Logan asked. “Does it matter that you stay with him if you don’t love him?”

“Yes.” Veronica lied.

“Really?” He was step closer. This time she didn’t move. She wanted this so much she ached.

“Yes.” She lied again.

Another step. He was so close she could reach out and touch him but she forced her hands to dangle by her side.

“Really?” He asked again. Another step closer. Inches apart.

“No.” Veronica whispered, her eyes falling shut. Finally she could tell herself the truth. No matter whose baby she was carrying, staying married didn’t matter if she didn’t love Duncan. She felt his fingers on her arm and jumped at his touch as her heart started to flutter in her chest.

“Not here.” She managed through parted lips. He was pushing her back through the door to the women’s bathroom then into the stall at the end. Her back was pushed against cool tile as Logan ravaged in her mouth with a kiss that threatened to suck up her very soul.

“Don’t leave me,” Logan whispered against her lips. “Don’t leave me like I left you.”

Veronica slipped her arms around his back, felt the scratchy wool of his tux under her fingertips, slipped her hands under the jacket to the damp fabric of his shirt. His mouth moved to her neck and his tongue fluttered against her skin. She moaned and her head fell back, hitting the tile with a soft bump. His hands plucked at the silk fabric of her skirt, pulling it up around her waist, finding the bare skin of her thighs.

She moaned deeply, as her body remembered his touch. It was long and guttural and ended with a little scream as she felt deep cramps tear through her stomach. Her eyes flew open with the pain and her hand jerked from under Logan’s jacket, clutching at her abdomen. Logan froze and pulled away, looking at her with concern. Veronica groaned again as another cramp ripped through her gut.

“Get me to the hospital.” Veronica muttered. “It’s the baby.”

*****

Duncan was discussing the latest release from Kane when one of the volunteers came up to him and whispered in his hear.

_Mrs. Kane. Sick. Neptune General Hospital._

Duncan politely excused himself from the conversation and rushed toward the entrance of the country club. He told the valet to get the Kane limo ASAP. Then he was on his way to the hospital.

*****

Logan was going to leave the party as soon as he finished throwing up. Plush red carpet lined the hallway, muffling his steps as he headed the way the polite volunteer had pointed after he mumbled something about the bathroom at her. He was about to round the corner to where the volunteer had said the bathroom when she pushed her way out a door and turned away from him, heading down the corridor. She hadn’t seen him.

Logan debated what to do. Ignore her. She was the one who promised she’d end things with Duncan. She’s the one who never told him about the baby. Scream at her. Tell her how much she’d hurt him. Use words to hurt her back. Instead he whispered her name.

“Veronica.”

She froze.

“Logan.”

When she turns around all his anger slips away with the pain in her eyes. He knows at that moment that whatever reason she had to stay with Duncan, to not take his phone calls, it was a reason that weighed on her heavily. For a moment he’s sorry for her. Then the moment slips away.

He asks her why she didn’t tell him. After all, he fucked her enough times that there’s a good chance the baby’s his. Doesn’t he deserve to know? She looks at him, a shocked look on her face that his quickly replaced by anger. Then she throws the past at him, her voice cutting and low as she reminds him that she would have never married Duncan if Logan hadn’t decided to leave, decided to remove himself from her life without ever asking her if she cared. Logan felt his anger slip away again because he knew she was right.

Had enough blame been passed around?

“Our baby.”

She contradicted him with her words but he saw in her face that she was lying.

_Our baby._

He asked her if it mattered. She lied again. And again. But Logan wanted the truth and finally it escaped her lips.

It didn’t matter.

Then he was touching her, her warm skin sending heat through his groin and it was like coming home all over again.

_He’d missed her._

He was pushing her against the tiled wall of the bathroom, pushing his hips into hers, sliding a hand up her thigh. Then she jerked and he heard her moan differently, tortured. Painful.

_The baby._

The drive to the hospital was the longest of his life. Veronica was curled in the passenger seat, her hands clutching at her stomach. She would moan occasionally and the sound ripped Logan apart.

_Our baby._

He refused to leave her side when the arrived at the emergency room, her hand gripping his fingers, squeezing them until they blanched. He refused to leave when the doctor came in the room and Veronica told him it was okay if Logan was there. He refused to leave when the doctor told her it was a first trimester miscarriage and he watched Veronica crumple.

_Our baby._

“I’m sorry.” Veronica said, looking wan and small in the billowing hospital gown.

“Me too.” Logan said quietly. He was sitting in an uncomfortable one of the nurses had dragged next to the bed for Veronica’s ‘husband’. Veronica hadn’t bothered to correct her and neither had Logan. She reached out her hand and he took it in his, holding it tight. They sat there in silence.

*****

That was the scene Duncan Kane walked into when he finally arrived at the hospital.

“Duncan.” Veronica said weakly. Duncan looked at her, then looked at Logan who was silently watching Duncan’s face.

“The baby?” Duncan asked, not wanting to ask why his best friend from high school was holding his wife’s hand.

“Miscarriage.” Veronica said, her voice hitching a little. He saw Logan flinch a little and suddenly Duncan started to understand.

“The baby?” He asked again, but this time looking for a different answer. Veronica didn’t answer him. She just looked at him, her eyes full of pain and betrayal. Then he understood why Logan was holding Veronica’s hand and why he suddenly felt like the outsider.

“Bitch.” Duncan hissed. Logan dropped Veronica’s hand and started to stand up.

“Don’t…,” Logan started. “It’s not her fault. I never thought I’d see her again. I never planned…. Then she was in Riomaggiore and things happened…”

Duncan felt his heart sinking as he realized what had happened, right under his nose, right when he was happier than he’d ever been.

“She didn’t fuck you?” Duncan hissed. “You didn’t fuck HER on my **honeymoon**? There’s no one to blame here?”

“Duncan.” Logan started.

“Get the fuck away from my wife.”

Duncan took two steps toward Logan. His fist was clenched at the two men stood inches apart.

“Stop.”

Veronica’s voice was forceful in the quiet of the hospital room. Duncan turned to her to find tears on her cheeks.

“I’m not your wife,” She said quietly and Duncan felt his heart start to shatter with her words. “I never have been and you knew that all along.”

He remembered the day after their wedding, how he’d pledged to make her forget Logan, to take care of her forever. He’d known then that Veronica never loved him the way he loved her. It had been a game of chance. As long as Logan stayed away he could have her all to himself.

Duncan had gambled and lost.

“I’m sorry.” Veronica whispered.

“Fuck you.” Duncan said, letting his words be controlled by the intense anger that made him want to punch Logan and shake Veronica until she saw things his way. He loved her. He would have loved her for the rest of his life. He would love her for the rest of his life.

With that Duncan turned and stalked out of the hospital room. He never looked back and he’d never see Veronica again. The next day he resigned his vice presidency and then he disappeared in the way only people with large bank accounts and updated passports can manage.

*****

“Coffee?”

“Mmmmm.” Veronica said as she continued to read the paper. It was three weeks since she’d been released from the hospital. Logan had picked her up in his new BMW SUV and Veronica rolled her eyes at his excess. He took her to a nicely furnished condo a few block from Dog Beach. Trina’s, he told her, as her eyebrow lifted in surprise.

She never went back to the house on the cliff that she’d shared with Duncan. Duncan packed her clothes into cardboard boxes and had them sent to the address of the house that Logan had bought a couple days after she’d been discharged. It was huge and new and smelled like fresh wood and carpet glue. It was theirs.

They didn’t talk about the baby. It was a casualty of friendly fire in their battle to find each other again. She’d asked the doctor if there was any way to determine paternity after miscarriage. He’d shrugged his shoulders and said ‘no’, and that was the end of the story.

They walked on the beach hand in hand, Veronica wondering if she’d ever tire of the thrill of having Logan by her side. He would glance over at her and smile and she’d feel her stomach tighten and her heart ache.

They fucked every night, tangling legs and arms, sweat and spit, skin slipping against skin and ‘I love you’ whispered between moans.

Veronica talked about starting up the agency again. Neptune’s elite needed someone to dig up dirt for them. Logan said he’d be glad to be a silent partner.

She took his portrait, making him take his clothes off, letting her camera record the planes and shadows of his body. He promised to build her a darkroom out of one of the spare rooms. Then he took the camera out of her hands and set it carefully on the side table as he pushed her back into the soft cushions of the couch, his tongue exploring her mouth.

For the first time since Veronica had watched her father die, watched the last member of her family slip away, she felt happy.

She’d found her family again.

**...the end...**


End file.
